Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, Colin and Dennis Creevey, and the rest of the characters, settings, etc. from the Harry Potter series. I didn't invent and don't own any of them. She also owns the plot from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, which this story will be rigorously based on.

Thanks for the reviews, cecelle and Shading in Grey! Cecelle, if you can point me to that interview where JKR mentioned Ministry reps coming to explain things to Muggleborns' parents, I would be very grateful. I've tried to find it on Quick Quotes Quill, but haven't had any luck.

Ch. 3: The Owl

About half an hour later, Colin was sitting at his desk staring at his copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. He still had about six inches to go on his shrinking potions essay and was decidedly stuck over a bit about daisy roots.

"Daisy roots! Wow!" Dennis exclaimed when Colin told him about this. "What d'you do with them?"

"Well, you chop them up really fine and really even, it says in the potions book," Colin explained. "But I have to work out why that's important…"

"What else has it got in it?"

Colin consulted his parchment.

"Abyssinian skinned shrivelfig—that makes sense, because you want things to get smaller. The other stuff must make it shrink properly, and not shrivel right up!" This helped, but it didn't resolve his confusion about why the daisy roots had to be chopped so evenly. "Sliced caterpillar…rat spleen…" He scanned his essay for any more clues about the daisy roots. "Oh yeah, and the leech juice!"

Dennis was strangely quiet. Colin turned and looked at his brother in the steadily growing light from the window. The eleven-year-old was fast asleep.

For a few hours, the boys' room was quiet except for Colin's quill's scratching, his whispers about potion ingredients, and Dennis's occasional light snore. Finally, Colin finished his last sentence and nodded in satisfaction. He still wasn't sure he understood the bit about the daisy roots, but at least the essay was long enough now. He went to Dennis's bed and shook him by the shoulder.

"Hey, Dennis! It's time to make breakfast!"

Dennis blinked at him for a moment, then grinned and bounced upright.

"Breakfast! I'm starving, Colin!"

In the kitchen, the boys soon had bacon frying and porridge simmering.

"What else is there, Colin?" asked Dennis, who was minding the bacon.

"Well…" said Colin, peering into the kitchen cupboard, "There's some kippers still."

"Eurgh! I hate kippers!" groaned Dennis. "Isn't there anything else?"

"Don't worry, Dennis! We'll fry some eggs too, when the bacon's done."

The bacon was on the table, the last of the eggs nearly finished, and the porridge almost creamy enough when the boys heard their father's whistling. Looking outside, they saw him walking up the pavement, carrying a jug of milk in one hand and paper bag in the other.

"Breakfast!" he exclaimed as he came in the door. "It looks excellent, boys!" Colin quickly scooped the last egg out of the pan as Dennis eagerly relieved their father of his paper bag, which proved to contain—

"Grapefruits!" Dennis exclaimed happily.

"Brilliant, Dad!" cried Colin.

"Tell me about breakfast at Hogwarts again, Colin!" begged Dennis as the three Creeveys sat down at the kitchen table. He asked this at least once a week, but Colin didn't mind, as he never tired of talking about anything having to do with Hogwarts.

"It's amazing, Dennis! Halfway through it, all the owls fly in with everybody's mail!"

"And they land on the tables?" asked Dennis eagerly.

"Yeah, right on the tables, and they like it if you give them some of your food!"

"That's neat! What kind of food do they like best?"

"It seems like they like everything! Bacon, toast, orange juice…"

"What else is there for breakfast?" Dennis interrupted.

"Loads of stuff, Dennis! Porridge, and rolls, and fruit, and kippers—"

"Eurgh!" said Dennis, who was mashing his grapefruit into his porridge.

"It's ok, you don't have to eat the kippers, there's plenty of other stuff. And if you get there early enough in the morning, you get to see the food appear on the tables by magic!"

"Wow! Where does it come from?"

This was a good question. Colin paused for a bit.

"I've no idea, Dennis! I've heard something about kitchens, somewhere…"

"Brilliant! We can go find them when we get there!"

"Yeah! That'll be excellent, Dennis!" Now why had he, Colin, never thought to go look for the kitchens? Oh well, that would be the good thing about having Dennis around—plenty of new ideas.

"Now, boys," said Dad, leaning forward and looking very earnest, "you want to be careful about—" But he was interrupted by a loud tapping noise.

"A letter!" squeaked Dennis, jumping up and hurrying to the window. Colin, close on his brother's heels, recognized Falco, the smallish screech owl that belonged to Tommy Blasengame, his fellow Gryffindor third-year.

"What's it say, Colin?" demanded Dennis, trying to pet Falco. Colin quickly unfolded the letter.

Hi Colin!

You'll never believe this—I'm at the Quidditch World Cup! My mum gave the tickets to my dad for his birthday. We had to pack up and leave right away, and we still didn't get here until late. Then, we had to set up a tent! A Muggle tent! It took forever. Anyway, it's really exciting here, even at night. Wish you could've come too! The match starts Monday night. I'll owl you when it's over and tell you all about it! Hope your summer's still going well!

Oh yeah, the match is Ireland vs. Bulgaria—none of the other English sides were any good this year—

Best,

Tommy

"Wow," breathed Colin. "The Quidditch World Cup!"

"Quidditch has a World Cup?" asked Dennis, momentarily distracted from seeing if Falco liked grapefruit.

"Just like football?" chimed in Dad.

"I guess so," said Colin, skimming the letter again. "I wonder why they had to set up a Muggle tent?" He quickly found parchment and a quill and wrote Tommy back, congratulating his friend on his terrific luck. He also let him know he'd be staying at The Leaky Cauldron on Monday, in case the match ended in time for Tommy to owl him that night. But he added that he hoped the match would last longer than that.

Colin tied his letter to Falco's leg with some difficulty, as the owl was now standing on Dennis's head, letting Dad feed him bacon.

"All right, Falco," he said, extricating the owl's talons from Dennis's hair, "see you in a few days, I bet! Have a safe flight!" He watched as Falco flew swiftly away and felt a pang of something like homesickness, thinking of the world where the owl was headed. But he took a deep breath and reminded himself: Diagon Alley in two days. Hogwarts in two weeks. And the pang quickly turned to a thrill of excitement.